


In The Woods Somewhere

by RobNips



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fever, Gen, Grimm - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Original Grimm, Pre-Canon, Protective Raven, Protective Siblings, Sickfic, The Branwen Tribe (RWBY), sort of lol - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobNips/pseuds/RobNips
Summary: "If the Branwens exiled everyone who caught fever, there would quickly be none left. If you were strong, you would survive.Raven - judging by Qrow’s skin that burned for days, the weakness that left him unable to even stand, and labored breaths - had started to lose hope. The elders might finally be right. Qrow wasn’t one of them, and when he died, it would prove it.Within the tent, besides the sliver of white light, the darkness felt as if it wrapped around him. Qrow remembered the nights outside their camp, when his semblance would flare up and the tribe would cast him outside of the walls. The dark of the woods, the way the night would seem to hum around him if he got too scared - like the Grimm were somehow telling him they were coming.As Qrow shivered in his sweat soaked bedroll, he felt that hum again.""I raised myselfMy legs were weakI prayed my mind be good to meAn awful noiseFilled the airI heard a scream in the woods somewhere"
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Raven Branwen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	In The Woods Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on Hozier's fantastic song In the Woods Somewhere - sickness, alone in the woods, and eldritch-type horror, what more could you want? I picture the twin around 14/15 here, before they crafted their weapons but can hold their own in the tribe. 
> 
> The only specific warnings I could give are that there are a few moments alluding to/mentioning gross symptoms, and two sentences dealing with a dead animal. But nothing really graphic! 
> 
> I've had this idea in my head for a while, but finally got around to it. So, Please enjoy!

The Tribe would not banish those who fell ill. Even the strongest of warriors could fall to a simple infection, and winters were often brutal. Sickness spread, that was part of nature. Anyone in Anima knew that if you tried to fight nature, you rarely won. 

If the Branwens exiled everyone who caught fever, there would quickly be none left. If you were strong, you would survive.

Raven - judging by Qrow’s skin that burned for days, the weakness that left him unable to even stand, and the struggle to breathe - had started to lose hope. The elders might finally be right. Qrow wasn’t one of them, and when he died, it would prove it. 

The leaves had nearly all fallen, the air was crisp enough to need fires all throughout the night, and most of the others had already gotten past this year’s sweep of fever. Only one child and two elders had died. Raven’s own bout with fever had only lasted two days. The Tribe was ready to move on. 

Until Qrow had vomited up his dinner four days ago. And their small share of breakfast the next morning. By midday, he could barely stand. The next day, other Branwens packed up around him, until their camp was left empty except for the twins’ tent. 

“Just leave him.” An older girl had told Raven, with a hand on her shoulder that was meant to be comforting - despite her grip being tight like a threat. “The Grimm will move in our place soon.”

“I’ll catch up.” She had promised, and quietly, had added. “We promised to bury each other.” 

The girl just gave her a solemn nod, and said she’d offer a prayer to the skies. Raven hadn’t left their tent since. The leftover herbs she saved from her own sickness were used up this morning. It had started to smell by then, and her food was running out, but it wouldn’t be long anyway. 

Raven sat with her head on her knees. Qrow mostly slept, or was wracked with chills. The past times he was awake, Raven could tell he wasn’t really with her. He mumbled some things, either too quiet or too jumbled for her to hear. 

She didn’t say it, didn’t even let herself think it through, but she hoped Qrow passed when she was asleep. When she wouldn’t feel it through whatever bond her semblance formed between them.

Now, he was coughing, hacking up something he spat to the side of his bedroll. Then he twisted to lie on his back, struggling in breaths. Raven sighed, and kicked up dirt to cover the bile. 

“Rae?” 

The squeaky rasp just barely formed her name caused Raven to whip her head to him. Qrow was looking at her, mouth open to keep breathing, and she could barely make out the red of his irises. He frowned seriously at her. 

Raven shook her head, and scooted closer. “Yeah?” 

Qrow swallowed, and coughed a few times more. Raven thought that was it, until her brother’s hand reached towards her. She grabbed it without thinking, his skin red and dry - and hot. 

They sat like for a while, Raven was trying to ignore the tightness in her throat. She knew this was coming, everyone had known this was coming. They had probably wanted this for years. Raven had never liked to admit it, but they would be better off without a shadow of misfortune. 

But she’d always known it wasn’t his fault. No one hated Qrow’s semblance more than Qrow, she was the only one who could see that. It was just irritating he never wanted to harness his own power. 

“ ‘m cold.” Her brother mumbled, coughing again.

 _You’re not._ She wanted to say, but just squeezed his hand. Raven decided not to tell him everyone else was gone. There were no fires because no one was gathering wood. They were all but happy to move on without him. And soon she’d be running to catch up and join them. To figure out how to live without her own shadow, and act like she did not even notice he was gone. 

Raven took a deep breath, and swallowed. “I can go find something to kindle.” 

Qrow must have been more aware than she realized, because he frowned again. They both realized it was strange for her to offer to do something for him. 

Before she could stop herself Raven pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself. It was cold now, and the dirt was hard under her feet. She would get firewood - to burn his body. There was no digging up the ground earth now. 

With her eyes burning and the tightness in her throat nearly choking, Raven left their tent to the abandoned remains of their camp.

* * *

Qrow could just make out Raven walking away - leaving - leaving their tent, when the world started spinning again. His head pounded, and his heart felt like it was too big for his chest. Its sluggish thumps shook his body. When he closed his eyes, it was all he could hear. 

He must be awake, Qrow realized, as the disturbingly vivid dreams he’s been having don’t make him feel like this. Sometimes the voices would bleed into what he thought was reality - old ones of people long dead or the grating reprimands of the tribesmen. 

Raven, though, Raven must be real. Or she was, before she left. Qrow pulled the hand she had held close to his chest. He rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around his stomach and trying to stop the feeling like he was being rolled down a hill. 

“Raven!” He cried after her, but judging by how raw his throat felt, he doubted it went very far. He was not sure what she would be able to do for him anyway. Qrow grimaced, and a chill wracked through his body. It felt like his skull tightened inside his head and he screwed his eyes shut. 

When he opened his eyes again, the tent was dark.Sweat soaked every part of him, through his clothes and to his bedroll and slicked in his hair, plastered to his skin.

Through the slit of the entrance, he could see the bright light of the moon, still hung in the sky despite Qrow feeling like the world had somehow spun off its orbit. 

Within the tent, besides the sliver of white light, the darkness felt as if it wrapped around him. Qrow remembered the nights outside their camp, when his semblance would flare up and the tribe would cast him outside of the walls. The dark of the woods, the way the night would seem to hum around him if he got too scared - like the Grimm were somehow telling him their coming. 

As Qrow shivered in his sweat soaked bedroll, he felt that hum again. 

He couldn’t stay here, even the haze of his fever that still wracked him, he knew. If it wasn’t his illness, it would be the Grimm. Qrow got his hands under him, pushing weakly against the ground to raise himself. 

His arms shook, but his legs were worse. Qrow swayed as he was upright, and slammed into the post holding up his tent. He clung to the beam, his head still swimming. Qrow prayed to whatever god that didn’t curse him that he could last long enough to die on his own and not by the Grimm.

Just as he could lift his head without fainting, a shriek - some awful noise, barely a scream - ripped through the camp. Into his tent. Qrow clung to the post to stay upright. The scream seemed to shake his bones, worse when he realized what it was. 

A girl’s. Coming from outside the camp. In the woods. 

_Raven_. 

Qrow dove for bedroll, the haze of his fever replaced by panic. It must be her. The only weapon that he found was his old knife. His gun was gone, the shotgun he’d found only a few months ago, but Qrow was already scrambling back to his feet and nearly falling as he left the tent. 

The moon struck him again, brighter than he could have imagined, and Qrow stumbled as he saw the ruins of the camp around him. The tents, the firepits, their stockpiles from raids, all dust. 

_This is a dream_. 

Qrow shook his head, it must be a dream. The moon was too _bright_ , that scream, that feeling of Grimm - it couldn’t be real. 

The fog of fever clung to him, though. His ears felt full, like he was underwater, and everything felt hazy. Qrow gripped his knife, spinning on his heel for anything real - anyone that should be here. 

The scream ripped through the air again, Qrow cringed and covered his ears. The shrieking, it burst through whatever clogged his head, loud enough to make his ears split. 

When it finally ended, Qrow stumbled to keep his balance. He was trembling again, the knife in his hands shaking pathetically. But his heart was still racing, and he didn’t let himself think. Qrow found a gap in the walls of the camp, and sprinted to the woods. 

He had to take advantage of the burst of energy, running blindly through the brush to where he thought came Raven’s scream. Brambles scratched at Qrow’s arms and legs, mud started to seep through his old boots, and his body finally recognized the bitter cold of the night - but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t feel any of it. The moon seemed to wash every color from the woods, from the autumn leaves to the thick dark bark of the trees, it was all black and white to Qrow. 

A whimper sounded to his right, something weak and pained. Qrow tripped over himself to stop and turn towards the noise. The color of blood shocked him - red against the rest of the moonlit colored forest - and his heart seized when he followed its trail. 

The whimper was quieted - not from Raven as he feared, but a fox. Silenced by the Banshee Grimm feasting on its body. 

He started shaking again, but his frozen in place. His shoes sunk into the mud, the chill bit at the exposed skin of his arms and fingers. The Banshee hunched over, its long claws that acted as fingers sunk into the fox. The curled horns at the top of its head were spiked bone. Thin, stringy hair covered its eyes, billowing in the cold air.

Qrow sucked in a breath, his fear coming in one suffocating wave at the Grimm. The Banshee stilled, slowly craning its creaky neck to look at Qrow. The red eyes that bore into him were not the familiar, radiant hue of his sister’s, but streaked with black ickor down its pale face - a twisted imitation of tears. 

The sight of its burning eyes jolted Qrow into another sprint. Before it could open its mouth, show the large, pointed teeth that rattled when it screamed. Again racing through the woods, Qrow clutched his knife close to his chest. His mind went blank, forgetting about the camp, even about Raven. Pure prey instinct took over, only trying to push through the leftover sluggishness the fever still held over him. As if he could keep his life this way - run off the illness and away from the Grimm. 

He did not get far, the Banshee shrieked again. Qrow was pushed off his feet by the pulse of sound, crashing hard into the dirt. Still, Qrowl tried to quickly crawl forwards as he heard branches snapping, brush being flattened, as the Grimm swept up behind him. A bout of coughs burst from his chest, thick and paralyzing - Qrow braced for its swipe of claws.

Nothing came, there was no pain. Through the roar of blood in his ears, Qrow could hear the high pitched tone of a portal above him, see the red haze of smoke spilling across the ground. He whipped his head up to see Raven, her sword straining against the Banshee’s bony, clawed hand. 

With a grunt and jerk forward, Raven’s steel sword shattered the exposed bone. The Banshee screamed, in pain rather than as an attack. She took its agony as an opening, stepping forward to plunge her blade into its chest. 

Qrow could only blink, the Grimm pained screams echoing through the forest as it started to dissolve. The black smoke blocked the moon - Raven nearly yanked his shoulder out of its socket to get him up and moving. 

“Go!” He heard her yell, and was shoved forward toward the portal still swirling in the darkness. The Banshee reached for them with its good hand - Qrow saw Raven swing her sword wildly to bat it away, and she shoved him again. 

He landed head first into his bedroll, back in their tent. The still silence was jarring, the strange sensation of Raven’s portal made him stomach tumble. Qrow stayed on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath, as Raven closed the portal behind them. 

“What were you doing?” She pulled him up by the shoulder of his shirt - Qrow suddenly felt dizzy all over again. Raven pushed him so he sat up. “I thought-” she stopped herself, eyes searching his body for blood. 

“Everyone’s gone.” His tongue still felt heavy. _You were gone._ He thought bitterly, but shoved it down. She had been with him, saved him, again. 

Raven took a breath, and swallowed thickly. “You were the last one to get sick.” As if on cue, he started coughing again. The cold burned his chest. “We can catch up. If you can - we have to go.” 

He nodded slowly, but Qrow already felt the ache in his muscles, the fog in his head returning as danger crept away. He looked back to the slit of their tent, the quiet of the night. More Grimm would come, even if the Banshee was dead. “I can go.” 

Raven cocked her head to the side, doubt clear on her face. His fever wasn’t gone, not completely. He’d slow her down, but Qrow knew he wouldn’t attract any more Grimm. The Banshee, its eyes, were enough to make a Beowolf seem harmless. 

And, she had kept her promise. She had been waiting to bury him. Qrow wouldn’t be any more of a burden - than he already was. 

“I can make it.” He echoed. 

Raven blinked slowly, and nodded. In silence, they gathered what little things they had left in their tent. Arm in arm, the sun just started to light the world, they left the camp together.

**Author's Note:**

> Raven? Actually caring about Qrow in MY fics? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> Also Hozier is one of the masters of tone for musical storytelling, so if somehow you haven't heard his stuff, please do. It's inspiration central lol
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, and I'm always open to hearing Branwen head canons. I love them! Thank you so much for reading!


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